Silence
by some.name.here
Summary: Yong Soo has had to change his birthday a few times in his life already. Perhaps August 15th was one of the more hurtful anniversaries.  KimchiBurger
1. One

**AN: It's really been a while since I've written anything. I should get back into the groove of things, but I don't really have the motivation to continue my other two stories. [siiiiigh. DX ]**  
**This is dedicated to my friend [who wants to remain anonymous.] I hope you enjoy, dear~.**

**Axis Powers: Hetalia does not belong to me.**

* * *

**"Bye, Yong Soo~!"**  
**"Good night, South Korea. You've been a very pleasant host tonight."**  
**"Next time, I'm OWNING your Asian ass in that game."**  
**"You need to show me more of your songs and dramas next time! Have a good night!"**  
**"Way to throw a party, dude! Good night!"**

_Yes, yes._

_Be careful on your way home._

_I'm glad you enjoyed yourself._

_Good night, good night, good night._

Yong Soo waited patiently for every one of his guests to file out of his home. Knowing the various mannerisms of the nations, the Korean bowed his head to some, shook hands with others, pat the backs of many, and politely smiled to the rest.  
He had taken the time to understand every face and every personality, especially of those whom he considered close in his heart.

His Asian 'family' was the last to file out, and just like every year, his goodbyes with China and Japan were awkward.

This was the day Yong Soo was reminded of his freedom from Japan. Kiku was, surprisingly, always more silent than his usual taciturn self during the young nation's parties.  
This was the day Yong Soo was reminded of his 'disfavor' with China, the only real connection he had to a 'calmer' North Korea…who of course did not bother to even pick up his phone this morning.

* * *

The eldest Asian nodded his head to indicate his farewell, though it was difficult to muster up anything close to a smile. He had always found it hard to speak on such a day, let alone straighten it out to himself.  
"…Another year, ah, Yong Soo?"

All South Korea could do was return the nod and smile like his usual self. "Yes, hyung-niim. (1)"

"Aiyah (2). I must be growing very old, aren't I—"

"Now, now, Yao-san." Japan placed a hand upon the Chinese's shoulder. He took this as his cue to politely interrupt the conversation before Yong Soo could conjure up a joke. "Let's not get into that again. All of us are very tired…I'm sure."

_Surprisingly, that's the most you've said all day_, Yong Soo mentally contemplated for himself.

Kiku sighed at the sight of Yong Soo's messy living room behind him, still unreadable after such an obvious gesture of tiresome intent.

"Perhaps I should help you cle—"

The youngest of the three waved off the ridiculous offer. "WHAT? You're nuts, hyung! Don't even think about it~." Korea grinned, chuckling. "Now shoo, shoo. Rest up at home. I got this covered." He waved off his brothers as if he meant to swat a fly.

This statement earned an eyebrow quirk from the Japanese. If Japan ever offered anything, usually Yong Soo would be more than glad to accept. He tried once more.  
"Are you su—"

"**T'CH**," the Korean male frowned childishly as he puffed air into his cheeks. "You helping out would slow me down, you know." Yong Soo pouted, folding his arms in front of him.

It had taken a moment, but Kiku finally nodded his head in amused understanding. "…But of course, otouto (3)," he smiled, bowing in custom as his farewell. It was apparent that Yong Soo wanted to spend the rest of his night alone, much to both his disappointment and relief.

_We both need to think tonight. Perhaps not being together is best for the both of us,_ Honda agreed silently.(*)

* * *

Long, strong arms wrapped around the Chinese and Japanese, bringing them into one of South Korea's warm hugs.

"…Thank you both for coming." Yong Soo mumbled above the others' heads.

Yao yawned something like "Of course", and the two Asian nations had finally left, making their way down the paved stone path of his front yard.

The host stepped back into the stuffy, crazy home of his. Gently kicking his door shut, Yong Soo stared at the vast mess created by his friends.

Countless plastic cups lay scattered at every tabletop, bookshelf, his fireplace, and wherever else. Thank goodness there wasn't much food to clean up, but that piece of cake splat on the wall would take a little while to wipe off.

South Korea sighed heavily, slowly sliding down against a wall. He rested easily on the wooden, polished floors.

_Time to get cleaning…

* * *

_

**AN: The second (and final) chapter will be up shortly. America will make his appearance then. **

**1. Hyung-niim: The term of "older brother" a younger brother must use in Korea.**  
**2. Aiyah (Aiyoh): It's a term equivalent to "Ah, jeez" in Chinese.**  
**3. Otouto: The term for "younger brother" in Japanese.**

*** : August 15th is also the anniversary of Japan's surrender. I would definitely take some time to think, wouldn't you? **  
**-As a final note: The reviews you all have left me... I really cannot thank you all enough. You're all so kind!**

**Please review! **


	2. Two

**AN: …So many views already… you people are crazy.  
It's okay, though. I love you, my viewers. ; ; And thanks to those of you who are sending me so many encouraging messages. **

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"Oh, hell. You got frosting on my coat collar, you bloody twat!"  
"Considering how little of an athletic one you are, mon ami [my friend] I had expected that piece of cake to hit you square on your ugly little face." Francis mumbled an insult under his breath as he brought his glass up to his lips.

Arthur promptly socked the French on the shoulder, causing some of the champagne to spill over onto the said twat's sleeve.  
"Leaving such a mess on poor South Korea's wall. Are you positively **DAFT**?"

"Worry not, Angleterre~. [England]" Francis lazily waved the venting Englishman away, now a bit more concerned with his suit rather than common courtesy. "It will not STAIN his wall, or the like."

Alfred smacked his head upon the wooden surface of the bar table for the umpteenth time tonight. He couldn't even hear himself think.  
**"Fuuuuuuck, do you guys ever shut up?"**

England almost spat out his brandy in pure disgust. "ALFRED! Watch your mouth!" He grimaced at the bespectacled nation. "Have you absolutely no shame?"

"Always griping and bickering about some off-shit. How stupid!" America sat up and tapped the counter top twice to catch a uniformed man's attention. "Tender! Fill me up again, bro!"

"Well, you're one to talk."

"What're you talking about, Arty?"

"Seeing as you've left your hideous bomber jacket at South Korea's house, I—"

America almost knocked himself out of his stool. "OH, SHIT! MY JACKET! I'LL CATCH YOU TWO LATER." The nation waved in haste at the other two and sprinted out of the dark-lit bar, out into the crowded, dazzling city.

* * *

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

"I think I might have dropped Alfred on his head while he was growing up." The Englishman chuckled faintly at America's ridiculous-looking silhouette in the distance. "He can be so idiotic, I swear upon it…"

Francis laughed as well, but for a different reason entirely. "No, no, Arthur. I think Amérique [America] isn't quite as _idiotic_ as you say he is."

"What?"

France twirled his glass with a skilled wrist, not bothering to return contact with his fellow nation's confused eyes.

_"He left us with the bill."_

_

* * *

_

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

"끝. [Done]"

The South Korean sloppily folded the dirtied towel in his hands and tossed it into the laundry hamper located by his bedroom's door.

It had taken a few hours in order to fully clean his home, but his efforts had definitely paid off, in his eyes.

Ah, but Alfred left his jacket in his room during their epic game of Call of Duty. He would have to return that sometime during the next world conference…

The entire house was far cleaner than how it was this morning. The scent of Rose of Sharon flowers (1) lingered faintly in the air, for he had always found this smell to be his personal stress reliever.

Yong Soo took a look at his 한복 (2), realizing exactly how dirty his sleeves and 저고리 (3) had become during his mad little cleaning spree. Without a second thought, he swiftly stripped himself of his 저고리 and robe as he made his way into the bathroom.

* * *

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

Steam from the shower rolled out the door in large, rolling flows as Yong Soo stepped out in his makeshift sleeping wear and towel draped over one of his shoulders. He dried out the excess water from his hair quite roughly, grumbling little comments of a tiring day as he made his way into the kitchen.  
Today's celebration had been the same for as long as he could remember.

**He needed a drink.**

South Korea sat down in front of his living room table, letting his legs fold lazily on the floor. The glass of both the soju bottle and the shot cup made unceremonious clacks against the wooden, intricately decorated surface, and Yong Soo slid over the leatherback photo album he looked through on every occasion.

Being all too familiar with this action, Yong Soo snapped the alcohol cap off and poured himself a shot. His free hand leafed through the laminated sheets of his photo album.

"All right. Let's see."

* * *

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

"Ah, fuck. My jacket! How can I be so careless of my damned jacket?"

_No, no. That's not what a hero is supposed to think. A hero is supposed to calculate every move and understand every motive or event… Keep it calm Jones.  
But damn it all, sometimes, even **HEROES** screw up every once in a while! _

"Hope you're not busy, dude!" Alfred shouted in the direction of Yong Soo's home, sprinting even faster than what even _he _thought was possible.

…Ah, then he would have to go and catch up with the pervert and his old man later at the bar. Shit. How is he going to pay for the bi—

AH. **THE BILL**.

"…Maybe it's a good thing that I forgot my 'hideous' jacket." Jones smirked a bit, noticing the Korean's home coming into view.

* * *

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

There was a small buzz and consistent drone of voices that Yong Soo heard in his head. The voices of his nation conversed with one another and whomever else with both the tones of joy, or remorse. Much of them, actually, had not necessarily cared very much at all.

Something about North Korea and his damned torpedo…

Something about some odd, new game to have popped up on the internet…

Something else about odd news or gossip chatted over by elder women…

Oh… and it seems that one of his favorite modern groups came out with a new song.

He grew a bit concerned, but perhaps concerned was not the correct definition. Many in his nation did not really care very much for any of North's antics and 'warnings,' since his threats grew more common than anything else from him anymore. But Yong Soo knows that there is a definite, dangerous potential. How will everyone else react when one day, something might... happen?

Now, hold on a second.  
Given, Yong Soo himself did not show any of his solemn and melancholic nature to anyone. Anything else from a smile on his face would throw off the majority of the others. He couldn't risk it. That was definite.

If he didn't laugh, shout, or make loud statements, then Yong Soo's image would be thrown off.

The South Korean lifted his eyes off of a picture taken in 1951 and picked up his green, glass bottle. They absent-mindedly swirled the alcohol beverage along the insides of the container. Yong Soo continued to listen to the voices of the ones who actually _did _discuss national issues.

"If we do not to anything soon, the demise of Korea is imminent..."

_**DING DONG.**_

"Then what of th-"_**  
**_

_**DIIIIIIING DOOOOONG.**_

"Strategies aside, they ma-"_**  
**_

_**D-D-D-DIIIIIIIING DONG. **_

"That would be catastrophic!"_**  
**_

_**DIIIII—**_

"ALL RIGHT, ALL RIGHT!" Yong Soo almost slammed his bottle of soju on the table and scrambled to get up and answer his door.

For other guests, he would usually ask them to hold on while he cleaned up and grabbed some fruit or something to cover up the stench of alcohol, but he already knew that this was—

"Alfred-niim~."

The Asian nation didn't bother to even look at his guest ID camera screen, unlocking and opening his front door.

Only one person would ring his doorbell that anxiously...

The smell of soju on Yong Soo's breath had almost thrown off Alfred, but the American knew better than to drop his grin around the other today. He stepped inside, being well aware of and accustomed to seeing the Asian in this sort of state.

…_Man, Yong Soo…_

"Hey, there, dude. I, uh…"

The Korean snapped his fingers and tapped his index finger against his temple, shutting the door with his foot. "Yeah, man. You left your bomber jacket. Let me go get it. Hold up for a minute."

Alfred took a seat on Yong Soo's couch and somewhat sprawled lazily, making himself comfortable like he always had before. "Thanks."

Yong Soo nodded lightly and turned on his heels towards the hall, shuffling along the floor to his room.

* * *

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

The first thing Alfred settled his eyes upon was the bottle of alcohol and shot cup that was placed neatly next to it. The bottle was a little under the half-line, he noticed.

He made no mental comment _just yet_.

He'd have a little talk with Yong Soo tonight. It wasn't like Alfred had anywhere else to be, anywa-.

**"OOF."**

Yong Soo entered his living room and portrayed a simple thumbs-up. "There you are, da-ze~. Sorry I took long. Somehow it ended up being tied to my ceiling fan."

Alfred lifted the neatly-folded leather coat off of his face, raking through his hair to fix its positioning. "Ceiling fan? Who the hell would tie my jacket to a ceiling fan?"

Yong Soo took in a breath and parted his lips to answer, but Jones chucked one of the cushions at his head before he uttered a letter.

"Don't answer that, kimchi boy."

Yong Soo caught the flying projectile and walked over to take a seat next to the smirking American.

"Well, excuse me for not catching the rhetorical."

Alfred just ignored the statement and pointed at Yong Soo's bottle of soju on the table in front of them.

"Yong Soo, what the hell are you doing drinking? You're too young, dude."

The Im confusedly inquired the American, raising an eyebrow. "I'm older than you are, man. What are you talking about?"

_Playing smart, are we?_

Jones flicked the nation's forehead. "Wrong. Your _memory_ is thousands of years old."

"From birth, I'm sixty years old." South Korea rebutted.

"Now, what is your BODY'S age?" Alfred frowned.

"What, 16? 17? What's your point?"

"Big brother Alfred's told you this before, kimchi boy. No drinking. Understood?"

Yong Soo shrugged, scoffing.

"You gotta take care of yourself, man."

"Same to you."

* * *

**-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-.-**

There was a silence that settled between the two, but it was respectably patient and comfortable.

The language barrier and lack of trust between Alfred and Yong Soo back then was much worse than now…

"Oh, hey. You got that piece of cake off of your wall."

"Dude, that took forever to clean off!" Yong Soo pinched the bridge of his nose and groaned. "Do you know who did that?"

Alfred suppressed the guffaw developing deep in his gut. He could already imagine Yong Soo tae-kwon-do kicking France's head in.

"…Ah, man. Unfortunately, I don't."

"Who the hell throws food anymore?" South Korea bent over in his seat and poured a glass from his soju bottle.

Jones shook his head in light amusement and clapped his hands together, rubbing to accumulate some heat through his fingers.

_Maybe… they needed to talk beyond just the little things tonight._

**"Yong Soo. Mind if we chat a little?"**

Light, chocolate irises met sapphire-blue ones. The Korean stopped midway from drinking his glass.

**"…Yeah," **they replied, downing the clear liquor, **"of course."**

**

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**AN:**

**1. Rose of Sharon flowers: National flower of South Korea**

**2. The hanbok. It's his clothes in its entirety. Hetalia's style is incorrect, though. LOL. I looked at a few men's hanboks. They look nice~! Their sleeves are NOT that long. LOL. **

**3. It's like jeo-goh-ri. It's the shirt/vest part of the men's hanbok. **

**Okay, so I said that this would be where kimchiburger would be happening. **

**...Yeah. It hasn't happened yet. **

**Next chapter. For sure. But I don't know how deep I should go with the looooove. **

**What do you guys want? Leave a review and tell me, please. XD**


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